


Bottle Up

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cockles, Comfort/Angst, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Established Relationship, Fear of Death, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Mush, Gen, Gentle Kissing, Inspired by Real Events, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Really Character Death, Protectiveness, Psychological Horror, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Sweet, Triggers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: The last shoot before Vegascon2020 was exhausting but the universe has a twisted way to keep them up their feet when 10,000 feet above the ground and one of the engines explodes to smithereens. Misha doesn't feel okay. Good thing Jensen is right there beside him.Inspired by true events recently when Misha, Jensen, Rich and Alex's airplane ran into major engine trouble) and FUCK thank god those boys are fine. This is a work of fiction and does not in anyway relay the exact events. But feelings are real.Warning for airplane trigger experience. Keep safe everyone!
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Bottle Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cocklesdestielfiction on Tumblr for their 1k mark and decided to take the prompt under BOTTLE :) Hopefully it fits, but I did not write this without precaution on the sensitive topic. It's mostly to try and understand and write. That's all there is. With a dose of Cockles of course!
> 
> And god, thank you for keeping them safe, dear pilots! I wish you all the best! I wish everyone the best!

__

_“The right engine exploded… like… BOOOHM!”_

— Richard Speight Jr. (VegasCon 2020)

* * *

“Where’s Misha?” says Jensen above the steady hum of the plane’s engine blending with sounds of shuffling bags, pitter-patters, and clinking glasses but Misha can always hear him perfect pitch or not.

“Here.” he heaved himself from the end of the aisle after unloading his personal bag with the other smaller luggage. He can hear Cliff talking to the attendant by the coach but he’s just too tired to say hello. 

“Hey, Cliff.” 

Misha’s eyebrows rake up and unfortunately for him that’s all he can muster with his limp. There’s a blunt grunt from the security papa bear.

“Nappy time for you, Misha. You look shit.”

“Thanks.” he grimaces. After ten hours on set (and that’s without Jared), he’s just too exhausted. Stalking to the cabin seats, Misha joined the others with bleary eyes.

He catches glinting green whose cherry lips begin to form into a wild smile. There has to be some rule about instant rejuvenation just from receiving that dose from such a nice face.

Richard beats them both in whatever shit they were about to say.

“Service is slowing, Misha. Your customer’s been addressing his complaints to the not-so-proper authorities.”Misha sniggers.

“Who’s proper here, do tell.”

“Jensen’s not being proper at adulting.” Alex supplies staring out at the green primo uomo Misha’s been ignoring. The whine comes. It’s like a sweet tickle on his ears. Petulant and cheeky growly voice—signs Misha learned—since his first day—never to encourage.

“Misha! Mish! One more call you’re gonna deliver a bar.” 

He turns.

“Been callin you out.” 

“You do that to spite me, fucker.” Misha drawls, walking to Jensen and holding out another bottled water that has to be his 8th. “Here. Don’t believe the media when they tell you the world will never run out of water. Maison says the water sprites will invoke the right to strike just on principle.”

“Sweet faerie. But I believe you. You just hoarded eight hundred Aquafina.” 

“And who’s fault is that?”

If Jensen wasn’t giggling so dorkily at him, he would have snatched the bottle and cursed him for the reminder. But Misha couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of lips. Even Rich and Alex hark laughter at the meaning.

Cause Misha Collins just had a truck of bottled water delivered on set that’s still causing stomach hurts from the cast. Recently, Jensen had taken up the habit of ‘mentioning Misha ’on set as a result of that one interview involving some intense heart eyes and delivery of drinks caught on camera. Nothing to deny there, relationships over ten years tend to turn if not bitter-sweet memories, then the opposite tooth-rotting.

This takes the cake. Everyone began doing the same.

Of course, Misha— pleased by the attention and a new game to distract himself from the already distracting Jensen, returned all summons. Misha who was never one to do things halfway and pledged on delivering all sorts of drinks every Jensen pings his name—except apple juice, jesus. 

But it’s one of those feats that usually get out of control in Supernatural so by the end of the first week, everyone’s just going ‘Misha.’ He liked that a lot. Also, like the truckload of bottled water delivered on set much to their amusement.

When Vicky saw the number on their credit card receipt, she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Oh, but he wanted to tell her anyway.

All fun aside, Misha’s particularly grumpy now for another reason. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained after pouring everything on that last take, he’s now headed to Vegascon with this little group. It was nice Jared arranged his private plane to take them. The pretty convenient thing when a pandemic is out there.

Jensen looks tired too, dark lines under the eyes, lips dry— thus the water bottle Misha’s been carrying around— but how the fuck he managed to radiate with teenage energy even when it’s already late will forever evade Misha who wants to snuggle beside him but instead just looks him straight in the eyes.

“Fuck you,” he mouths, backing to his empty chair.

“Do it.” Jensen teases him and Misha will not appreciate that radiance of beauty pulling him in.

“Can’t, there’s our kid here. Don’t wanna make it awkward.”

Alex shakes his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”

“That’s what you think.” Misha chuckles.

“Buckle up, Mishano, signals on.” Richard turns his back from the window facing Jensen with red-light flashing above their heads. “Let’s save the Cockles once we’re in Vegas, kay guys? Innocent guy trying to avoid diabetes so save the Cockles.”

“Save the Cockles.” Alex fumbles inside his jacket to fix his earphones. 

Misha and Jensen roll eyes at each other and Misha returns to his spot. Jensen is directly on his line of sight so it’s quite easy to check out on him, maybe snap adorable photos and stack it on his 100 terabyte collection he can post someday when he’s 90.

Taking his phone out after securing his belt, he hears the pilot give instructions as the plane begins to move. Soon, he’s immersing himself with replies on tweets and messages on his number using his extra handphone. Zoning out wasn’t difficult, especially when trying to block out the funny feeling of the engine preparing to take off. They’re all used to it by now.

A few minutes later, they all feel the usual sensation of slowing down bodily before the plane thrusts forward— Misha closes his eyes, hands clasping his chair until they feel the plane level after the accent. When he opens his eyes, he hears everyone including him take a deep breath. There are exchanges of words but he is already glued to his phone answering messages sleepily. He’s so tired he can sleep forever. His eyes begin to droop and he sighs in content, finally able to rest even for just minutes.

Till there’s a gentle nudge on his leg. 

He ignores it.

Another kick. 

No.

“Mish.” Kick again.

Misha grimaces. _Such long reach for bowlegs_ …

“Misha, I swear—”

“Social distance, Jen?” he opens his eyes, obviously grumpy.

“A truckload of beer from Poland sounds nice, I’d prefer that.” Jensen wags the water bottle with mischievous dimples showing off on the corner of his cheek. Misha frowns and shuts his eyes again. Good god for distractions. Good god for soft manly middleagedmen with so much energy…

“Mish…”

Ignore him.

_“Mish!”_

_Imagine if Jared’s around…_

“Hey, Misha, Poland beer really—”

Misha’s eyes flutter open.

“No, honey, I will not argue with you about Polish ‘Alkohole,’ it’s not even articulated the same.” Misha throws a grumpy look over notorious green-eyed lynx whose chuckling over his misery, “You’re gonna fuck with me again and I’ll have another story in my head I am unable to tell a soul as its rightfully not for children, sorry, Alex.” 

Ball on Alex’ court, he blinks from Jensen to Misha quietly then shakes his head.

“I am legally an adult.” He obviously could hear them from his pods. Misha raises a finger.

“Correction, the show says you’re 3. All fanfiction does.”

“ _I’m married_.” Alex injects in amusement.

“Fanfiction says Misha and I are married.” comes from Rich’s corner. 

At this Misha sits up, preparing his list of things why Misha-will-never-be-married-to-Richard-Speight-Who-Got-a-Rob impromptu—

 _“I’m married._ ” Alex retorts but Richard and Misha are bickering over the type of marriage to hear him.

“You both can say whatever the hell you want, _Cockles_ will top.” 

Sometimes Jensen just can’t bridle it. Sending Misha his heart eyes flirtatiously, he stops the argument with a wink. Misha giggles with all tiredness gone, replying to Alex about marriage while Rich says something about Jibcon to Jensen when things begin to go wrong.

Misha did not see it happen. He was busy looking over Jensen, admiring the bravado and confidence about the newly found comfort over their relationship (and their characters) when a loud bang from his right splits the air, followed by crashing sounds of that thing that Misha dreads, one of the worst sounds he never wants to hear in his life.

But that’s only just the beginning.

The first explosion rocked the plane violently forward, then topples without warning to their right. It throws them off with seatbelts tightening—making them grab around the seats, stomach in their throat as they keep their steady hold. Misha looks outside to the cloud of smoke and crashing debris, his mind tuning only to the present and hears himself as well as Jensen and Richard cursing with jesuschrists. Misha doesn’t know. He was never a steadfast believer but for this one, he’s already calling out god. 

The show’s influence is deeper than he thought. He thinks of all the near-death experiences he’s had but it’s nothing compared to this one. For one, he can only look at Jensen and the feeling sinks in the hollowness of his guts.

This is worse, much worse than the drop tower ride or any gyro drop his children always admired him for riding. No. Here the safety belts that kicked in didn't secure anything from the loud crashing sounds that pierced their ears, the shrill sound of the engine roaring like as it beat fragments unto the air leaving maybe nothing of its parts. How many engines are exploding?

Misha doesn’t close his eyes. He tries to deny the possibility that this is where he, Jensen— A _lex, god Alex just got married! He’s so much more ahead of his life_ — and Rich just might finally find their end. An irony of life where the show that’s keeping their lives together now also on the way to its _end._ A kind of twist in reality that’s been shown by many, if not more famous names ahead of himself but Misha tries not to think about them. He tries not to think about the same profession that killed them. He can’t afford it, oh god his children…

He realized he didn’t even kiss West goodbye the morning he left. How he left the unkempt dish on the sink in a hurry. How he didn’t check Maison’s daily log of mischief she does while he’s away.

_Now he may not return._

He closes his eyes as the plane shudders violently again. _Please..._

He calls Castiel’s name too, the back of his mind telling him they're dying. A more humorous, sadistic side of himself adding _Dean is here,_ and that angel of Thursday isn’t going to let his husband die. They shouldn’t. He and Castiel shouldn’t.

_But what is a mere mortal like him to do?_

If anyone asked him how he felt when the plane steadies itself as the pilots pull for control, Misha is not sure anyone would believe him. For the briefest second, he feels this tug at the back of his mind telling him it will be alright and the remarkable part is, Misha believed it. Fucking believe the whisper.

That’s when everything settles down.

Misha quickly looks around at Jense, Rich, and Alex. All of them are pale and he knows he doesn’t look any better. He wants to throw up but the uncertainty of the flight kept him guarded, his grip on the armchair not loosening.

“You guys alright?” Jensen’s voice much deeper than Misha remembers barely managed a nod.

Alex is looking at the floor with concentration where a laptop, neck pillows, cups, and stuff are all scattered on the ground. Richard looks as if he’s going to throw up the way he’s holding his stomach. Jensen is staring outside the right window while Misha tells himself to breathe.

“Are you alright?” comes Cliff’s low voice from behind Misha sounding obviously shaken too but still steady. Misha didn’t have time to collect himself. Not that he’s stupid, his body just doesn’t get it, but he quickly pulls his phone and begins texting Vicky and the children.

“What the hell happened?” Richard turns his head over the cockpit when the rumbling dies down.

“Right engine exploded.” Jensen is already unbuckling himself from his chair and casting everyone a look. “You all good? Mish? Cliff?” He doesn’t wait for answers. He shoots off to the cockpit and stops just by the door looking uncertain. 

_“Hey, uh… do we have a situation?”_ Nobody spoke while he was gone so it's easy to hear the response of the pilots ahead.

_“We most certainly do. Get in your seat. Put on your seat belt. We’re doing emergency procedures.”_

Calm. Collected. Professional. That’s all Misha had to hear. It doesn’t seem like he’s alone. Everyone else breathes in relief as they all watch Jensen amble back to his seat, nodding. 

“Okay, you certainly got my attention, sir.” 

He buckles up and lifts his chin. The look on their faces must’ve triggered Jensen to clap his hands together. “Hey, buckle up! Cliff, sit down. Rich, breathe, kay? It’s gonna be fine. It’s only one engine, guys, c’mon. This thing flies on three! You think Jared had anyone else to listen to about private jet education? We’re gonna be fine.”

Then as if heaven-sent, the pilot begins giving them reports of the situation in a clear and commanding voice. He tells them the right engine exploded which requires them to make a trip back to the nearest airport in Vancouver. That’s all he gives and a promise of an update as he wished everybody to stay calm and follow the protocol for emergency procedures.

“Hear that?” Jensen clears his throat, his hands clasping. Misha receives the full impact of the meaningful green eyes. The plane steadies itself with hum in the air. A full minute pass and the airplane did not drop.

**_“Fuck.”_ **

Misha forces himself to relax as he drops his head back on his chair. He can’t feel his body. His hands are still trembling when he smacks it on his cold face. “Fuck!” He can’t seem to say anything other than that.

“Fuck, indeed.” Richard agrees, grabbing his phone, “Good thing I got my pods on, that sound coulda destroyed my ears.” he begins typing on his phone immediately. Alex begins a speed typing contest while Misha receives Vicky's reply after his first message.

_‘Kids are mine, right?’_

_‘Because I cannot make them alone. What’s wrong?’- V_

Misha goes on about the engine and the exchange of mail becomes rampant. When about twenty minutes pass with all of them telling their love ones how much they love them, how much they feel lucky for being able to send the message even from heaven may be, they are just glad they could. Richard and Jensen begin talking but Misha doesn't lookup. Throws of questions around, then he distinctly hears his name as he hears the blubbing sound of whiskey. Misha looks up at Jensen who is pouring.

“I’m gonna be drinking that scotch when I get back home,” he’s saying as he hands the glasses each to Richard, Alex and finally to Misha who shakes his head, putting the glass on the holder. Jensen takes the armchair beside him to which Misha is glad, especially when Jensen wounds his arm around his shoulder.

"Guess this puts our game to an impasse, I'm the delivery guy."

Misha did not answer so Jensen frowns at him.

“We’re fine, Mish, stop shaking.” Jensen drops the side of his cheeks on Misha’s raven hair.

“I’m not,” Misha says shakily, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso and just pulling him into a tight hug _. “Fuck!”_

“Hey,” Jensen and Misha look up to see Alex and Richard stand up too and crowd around them this four-group hug. Jensen beckons Cliff too and they all hug tightly, Misha crushed around Jensen's torso- _crushed around everyone's' stomach actually_ that by the end of it, he's chuckling and laughing when he hears Rich sniff loudly. Alex laughs too but his face is red from tears. Jensen's eyes are sparkling and wet but no-man-tears rolled itself on his cheeks. Misha's just shaking his head and everyone's talking about the experience, of what they saw, of the first explosion's reaction and thinking of plunging down to their death. No one was laughing by then.

Jensen keeps a firm hand on Misha's back, making soothing circles as he rubs the tension away.

"I'm fine," he whispers to Jensen who only looks down at him before pressing a kiss on the top of his head. 

"You don't look fine to me. Don't bottle it up, you don't have people here you have to pretend to be strong, Mish."

Misha snorts but it's funny how his throat suddenly constricted and how his nose becomes clogged. Jensen breaks into a smile and its really terrible how the man still looks too perfect even after a flight scare while here Misha is just dropping his tears-streak face to the man's waiting chest. Because Jensen always knows what to say.

"Hey... it's okay..." 

Misha punches him on the side, tears unstoppable. Jensen embraces him tight, mouthing an okay to Richard who signals at him, asking if Misha is okay. Misha clearly isn't. His body won't stop trembling and he holds tight on his friend, all energy leaving his tensed muscle. Jensen did not say anything but just let him cry it all out in silence and if he's being a man-child too, it's all Jensen's fault.

_Don't have to pretend to be strong, indeed..._

_When a recall... only Vicky was able to tell him that. To think that there's really this person here too who cares for him... the same person so important to him too who almost, almost died._ Misha cries not for himself.

Jensen almost died. Rich and Alex too. His friends. They could've all perished in one single drop. Alex who's just gotten married, Richard who's at the peak of his career and directorial debut with a loving family. Then there's Jensen.

Misha digs his fingers on Jensen's shirt, pulling him much closer than the current sitting position permit. So Jensen slides beside him, pushing his broad body down the space between Misha and the armchair and successfully squeezing there on Misha's side. 

"Hands," he said when Misha's left hand nearly gets crushed on his back. Misha pulls it out, grumbling about the pain, before wrapping his arms around Jensen's neck again. Jensen smells so good and feels so warm now that their bodies are tangled on the recliner, "There, there, grabby, grabby," he chuckles with mouth plastered on Misha's ear. "What got you so scared?"

Misha did not answer. Jensen just covers him with his body, turning them both away and peppers him silent kisses on the face, brushing their mouths, but their kisses were brief, mostly Misha still not in the mood. He contents himself with face buried on Jensen's neck who kept firm arms around his shaking body. Gradually, the trembling ceases, leaving Misha to appreciate the actor's warm body against his as he breathes his scent.

Soon, he's kissing Jensen's neck, careful not to leave marks anywhere. The rumble vibrating from the man's throat as he chuckles has Misha sighing again. _Jensen's here... Jensen's alive._ He pulls Jensen tight on his body again, hearing the man grunt questioningly. Misha sighs finally, blinking away the tears and giving one final shuffle before meeting Jensen's eyes.

Jensen as been staring at him from the get-go. Someone beautiful to behold... holding him tight. Something he needs just now. A touch of love.

"I won't ask why you're so afraid." Jensen whispers between them, holding the intense gaze, "I bet it's something _not_ about you, huh? You didn't cry about you during the hip surgery."

"What did I say about that?" Misha mutters, forehead wrinkling. Of course, he remembers what he told Jensen. What he doesn't remember was after getting dosed with drugs for the pain, the things he's told, Jensen. Vicky won't tell him but apparently is a hidden story between his wife and this man he's currently snugged at on the seat.

Minutes later when Misha is beginning to think they will fly in the air forever, Richard's voice float in the air.

"They're really good."

"Hn?" Jensen grunts with eyes close, still cuddled next to Misha's body. Misha lifts his head a little and saw both Alex and Rich are on their window, watching something he couldn't seen "What is it?"

"I can see Vancouver now, we're near and you won't believe it-there trucks and ambulance—"

"What?!" Misha bolts up, knocking Jensen who yelps in surprise. "Sorry, sweetheart!" He ran to Alex's window. Sure enough, he sees the tower and a beeline of firetrucks already waiting at the well-lit roadway. Jensen whistles, squeezing behind Misha with hands holding Misha's waist.

"Yeah, they made a call on traffic control. We're making an emergency landing. Like Providence, the pilot spoke on the P.A about the emergency landing and Jensen's just all cheeks, smiling smugly while they return to their seat. Jensen sits on his own while Misha picks up where he left off his messages.

"Hey," Misha calls for attention. They all look up, knowing very well that familiar light and makes poses as Misha snaps a photo and quick selfies. “My wife said I wouldn’t want to forget this even if I die.”

“Nu uh… words, please.” Richard exhales, “let’s not test our luck. At least, Misha, how many lives do you have left? You’re the one with the most strikes here.”

“Uhh…” Misha licks his lips and pretended to count, “Don’t worry. I still got one last reserve till the end of the show with my will containing my murderer called JP.Lecki. Anyone messaging JarPad about this?”

“Nah, don’t make him worry before we reach the ground.” Jensen frowns, “Gotta tell him this in person and tell him we’re fine. Once we reach the ground, which we will, by the way, thank all of you for being supportive, then we’ll get to him. For now, let's enjoy our last minutes in Jar's plane before he smolders it to pieces.

"No." Alex's eyes rounds. "Will he?"

There's no sure answer to that because it's Jared.

“The important thing is we're all okay.,” Jensen nods at everyone, voice deep and assuring. 

“It got three engines, right?” Alex starts that gets Misha off his exchange of messages with Vicky. The way Alex’s eyes are now calm, unlike when they jump back and forth to the window and to them shows another attempt to calm his nerves. “Planes usually can fly with one.”

“Depends on the damage on the engine,” Misha sees Richard leans back on his seat. Cliff who appears and disappears then, stays where he is, listening. “I mean, if the fuselage got ruptured on impact now that’s some serious problem. 10 thousand feet off the ground, that's some height—"

"Jesus, speak English, Misha." Richard begins to grin, inhaling and exhaling, before lifting his eyes up the ceiling to the untouched boards. “Was just waiting for the oxygen mask. They didn’t drop so it’s gotta be okay, right?”

“That’s one thing.” Jensen fully looks at Misha, “I didn’t know you _know_ about any fuselage _._ You got more than sexy carpenter on your resume? _”_ He smiles and it’s so cocky, Misha can’t help chuckling. He knows what Jensen is doing and it’s helping. 

“Let’s just be thankful it didn’t break any windows or we’ll really be in trouble,” Misha answers, turning back to his phone and replying to his wife. He can still feel his heart pounding hard against his chest. “No matter how much I admire Drew Barrymore, that fucking part she threw open a plane’s door in _Charlie’s Angels?_ Is totally gonna leave that plane apart.”

“Fucking loopholes.” Rich comments absentmindedly. “What kind of shows have that?”

They all smirk at themselves.

“But Airplanes don’t just drop on-air, okay?” Jensen wrinkles his nose with a look over his shoulder. "Our pilots got it all under control."

"They do, that's for sure," Rich sighs, "I mean, we were just over the water and they just... just flew it with two engines!"

"It can fly with one, but it's a good thing they didn't risk it. So, it’s fine. They got us this far on air like it got wings. And speaking of wings, maybe time to spread those out, Cas?”

“Cas’ wings are damaged. Still keeps carrying the Winchesters anyways. But the real deal here isn’t scared of flying, right, Jen?”

“You leave Dean alone. My man’s allowed to have a few quirks. The angel can kiss his ass."

"He will." Misha promises. They hear the pilot again advising them to put on seatbelts. The four quickly secured themselves on their seats, Misha taking out his phone again when Alex calls him.

“Why’s my character not fixing your wings? I mean, I can create angels?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about that, AlCal,” Richard winks at Alex, “Or the possibility you could eat Castiel’s heart.”

 _“Not in the script.”_ comes the unanimous answer.

“Cas is not allowed to have his wings back because Dean told Jack not to or Cas will fly all around his ball handlers. Boom!” The laughter lasted shortly. Misha looks down his clasp hands with his chuckle dying in his throat. 

“Wished they tell us where we’re landing.” Alex peers over the window, “We’re still above water.”

“We can still do “deadstick” landing. I think planes can still glide over the water. Pilots are really incredible. They're all well trained.”

"One thing's for sure." Richard says when the pilot's voice updates them to brace for the landing, "that's one hell of a job you don't kid around when lives are at stake." Another unison of agreement.

It took another half an hour before the plane finally made a perfect descent. With the guidance from the calm pilot who tells them again, there are ambulance waiting and a team of authorities at the close call, Misha closes his eyes when things go dark and silent. He closes his fists tight but the impact did not come as bad as he expected. Instead, there's only a rumble and feeling of sharply going down then a jerk on the seats, a few jolts then went.

Once the plane touched down on the runway, Richard bursts into applause while Alex heaves a very deep sigh. All the lights flicker on and body begins moving from the crew to the pilots whom Richard quickly thanked and would have embraced if not for the social distance stuff. Jensen also comes up to speak to them and claps again.

The experience still feels surreal.

“Mish, you okay?” it’s Jensen. Misha sees Jensen already standing on his space looking up at him in concern. He hasn't moved from his chair even when the plane has successfully made its landing. Jesus Christ. Thank god... _thank god._

“You okay, Mish?” Jensen helps him unbuckle his seatbelt while Misha just holds his gaze like the way they do with hidden meaning there that could not be conveyed by words alone.

“Not the first time I saw life flash before my eyes, I’m only internally debating with my body whether to believe it or not.”

Jensen gives him a darned look. “You're fine. We're both fine. Get up.” he tugs his best friend up. Misha didn't know why, but the way Jensen suddenly looks pale surprises him a little.

“Jen—"

Jensen grabs him by the shoulder and begins shoving him out the door.

_"Fuck, let's go! I'm never flying ever again!"_

* * *

They sit together inside the almost empty premises of Vancouver. A worldwide pandemic can do that, yet here they are, sitting together, shoulders pressed, Misha's head on Jensen's shoulder. It has been an exhausting twenty-four hours.

“Danneel said we need to fly to Vegascon."

"Good girl. It doesn't help to let fear infest." Misha raises his head from Jensen’s shoulder. They’ve been cuddling together on the waiting area with Jensen tucked beside him, all chairs unoccupied with Rich talking to people and Alex stretched out on the empty chairs a couple of lines behind them. Jensen's just speaking for the past few minutes and Misha lets him.

Jensen has such a wonderful voice.

"Rich spoke to the co-pilot. He heard there was no real emergency... I mean, for them. Rich said those guys have far worse test assimilation what happened to us is a frolic under the sun. I think they said something about shrapnels from the main explosion that did not damage any other parts."

"We were just talking about that." he snuggles closer.

"Hell yeah. Engine blowing up is really exceptionally rare, but it's not an emergency for most trained pilots. They’ve been thoroughly trained for years on how to handle engine trouble."

"You mean it's textbook for them like how acting is so textbook on us?" 

Jensen chuckles, face turned to the sky Misha is watching. The glass wall provides a view of the wonderful sky, uncaring of their previous trouble. Its beauty an incentive so even when they're tired, no one felt like sleeping. Even Cliff standing outside looking around seems to enjoy the twilight.

"We're heading to VegasCon even after all this shit." Jensen turns his head to Misha, his nose pressing on the unkempt hair from all the pulling and snuggling they've been doing for two hours now. "We must love our job so much to be still doin' this," Jensen continued with a loud exhale, carding his free hand at the back of Misha's hair. 

“That's a conclusion because we do. Besides, I know you won't let Jared worry much.”

"Yeah, I messaged him and he's very upset and tells us to get our asses there immediately."

"Yup. Called my phone too."

A comfortable silence falls between them. They see lights of commercial flights blinking under the night sky, sees the gliding aircraft descending on another airway. Sees another airway light up and that's their wake up call.

"Mish?" 

"Yeah?"

There's a slight hesitation like Jensen is choosing his words correctly. "Mish, let's fuck the whole weekend long after this."

Misha knew that was coming. "I don't think fucking our brains out will solve out anxiety, but why not?"

Jensen grabs him by the back of his head and tugs him closer into a soft kiss. Misha leans in, deepening the kiss. Jensens's lips are soft and sweet, it's easy to get lost in the heat of his mouth. They tug on each other's lips for a few more seconds, breathless and wanting more but they both know they need to wait. The weekend will come soon enough. The thought drove Misha to bite Jensen's lips out of instinct, making the man yelp and pull back. Alex sits up in surprise, looking around at the source of the sound.

"Sorry, Al," Misha turns back to Jensen, cups his face and rubs a thumb on the man's red lips. Jensen is pouting, his handsome features knowing no bounds and Misha thinks yes, this weekend is theirs.

"I'm sorry." he pecks a kiss on Jensen's lips. "They're a bit swollen so we can't continue--"

"Who cares, I'll wear a face mask later." Jensen takes his wrist and the noisy kissing resumes. Alex yawns in the air and gets up, rubbing his eyes as he heads quietly to the restroom to wash his face. An hour later, Jensen is photographed wearing his facemask as they head to VegasCon, full of promises to have a blast of a weekend with their fans, friends and each other.

Because it's not their last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks! hit me up if there are clarifications on details, especially when they speak about it in the future. In their own time. It's horrifying... some if not all have dealt with that kind. All we do is move on!


End file.
